


Reclaiming Patience

by starcunning (Vannevar)



Series: Incubus Ravenor [2]
Category: Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: (For some definitions of the word 'solo'), Correctionfic, F Solo, F/M, NSFW, Psychic Bond, Ravenor, f/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:50:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vannevar/pseuds/starcunning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After months living as Lynta, servant of the heretic Zygmunt Molotch, Patience Kys lays claim to the things that are hers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reclaiming Patience

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Question](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185569) by [starcunning (Vannevar)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vannevar/pseuds/starcunning). 



> _Happy the man, and happy he alone_  
>  _Who in all honesty can call today his own._  
>  _He who has life and strength enough to say:_  
>  _'Yesterday is dead and gone; so I shall live today.'_  
>  — Remembrancer Hannon

One might have attributed the hour-long shower she took after Zenta Malhyde to the grit of the place or the nte flies. Patience Kys was too honest with herself to blame these trivialities—her feelings of uncleanliness went deeper than that.

Perhaps that was why the intervening weeks found her seeking out Jeswyn Stockton, one of the astropaths who had tutored her on their way outworld. She cut an odd figure—spindly and hairless, Jeswyn had foregone the usual blindfold because the right side of her face was tattooed with the sigil of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica. Her own glass eye was at its center. But for all her strangeness in appearance, Jeswyn was not lacking in warmth.

“How are you sleeping?” Jeswyn asked Patience as the telekine settled in.  
“I’m not sure what my frame of reference is,” Patience admitted as the other woman put a cup of tea in her hands. “I don’t think I’ve been acquainted with good sleep since my mother died.”  
The astropath smiled patiently. “Better or worse than last week?”  
“I thought time was supposed to heal all wounds,” Patience said, frowning at her reflection.  
“With enough of it, maybe,” Jeswyn agreed. “Not always cleanly. Is there something wrong with your bed?”  
“It’s too soft,” said Patience. “Too soft and too quiet.”  
“Not the usual sort of complaint. You aren’t reacclimating to ship life.”  
“Not reacclimating to  _my_  life,” the telekine admitted. “Lynta’s just a fiction.” She cradled the teacup, basking in the steam.  
“Then who’s Patience Kys?” Jeswyn asked.  
“That’s the million-throne question,” said the dark-haired woman with a wan smile.

— — — — —

As they entered orbit over Thracian Primaris, Patience found she wasn’t much closer to the answer. She had been in this life for only a few months before her tenure as Lynta. If Lynta was a mask, Patience Kys was just an older one, a shield for her true self when it no longer paid to be vulnerable. She knew little about Patience Kys except the names of those she trusted.

Gideon Ravenor was indisposed, writing reports to his superiors and preparing to appear before the Novena to debrief them in person.

Second on that list was Kara Swole, who was much more accessible. She had an apartment on Thracian, and after a few days planetside, Patience took it upon herself to drop in on her.

“Hey, Patience,” Kara said, lingering over the threshold.  
“Hi, Kar. Can I come in?”  
The acrobat gave her a brief, bemused look, then waved her in. Kara’s apartment was littered with the detritus of a life a good deal longer than its owner’s twenty-something apparent years. It felt homey, and Patience liked it instantly. At a gesture from Kara, the telekine draped herself over a worn-in grox leather sofa.  
“I can put on a pot of recaf, if you like,” the redhead offered.  
Patience waved her off. “I’m imposing enough,” she said.  
“You’re not an imposition at all,” said Kara. She settled into an armchair on the other side of the low coffee table.  
“How are things going with the Powers that Be?”  
“Good, I think,” Kara said. “Carl mentioned going to the opera tomorrow, so it can’t be too dire. Do you like Thracian?”  
“I haven’t really left the hotel,” Patience admitted.  
“Why not? It’s not like there’s a lack of things to do here. What do you like to do for fun?”  
“I don’t know,” the telekine said, hunching her shoulders. “‘Fun’ didn’t really figure into things at the scholam.”  
Kara laughed, embarrassed. “I guess not. Ravenor doesn’t go out much, either.”  
“This is where he …”  
“Yeah.”  
“I’d forgotten.”  
Kara sighed. “Thracian’s gone downhill a little bit since then…because of that, probably. There’s still some really good restaurants and things, but most of the money’s going elsewhere.”  
“You must have had this apartment a while.”  
Kara nodded. “Since Eisenhorn had a home here. Well, not really here, here. On Thracian, a few miles down. Below sea-level. There’s some benefit to this work.”  
“Like no budget oversight?” Patience laughed. “You worked for him before, right? Eisenhorn?” Nayl showed me a pict of him.”  
“Yeah, Harlon will show you picts of anything if you let him, and take a new one if you stand still long enough,” Kara grinned. “Tough knuck, Eisenhorn. Harl and I both worked for him. Ravenor, too, a long time ago. A couple others you didn’t get to meet…” she trailed off, her smile fading.

“Yeah. Kar, can I ask you something?”  
“Didn’t leave me much choice.” A new smile tugged at Kara’s lips. Patience mirrored the expression without enthusiasm.  
“You know how I had to go play nice with Molotch…? Did you ever have to do something like that?”  
Kara blinked at her, first going pale before her face flushed. “Yeah,” she said. “It would’ve been me  _this_  time, except—”  
“Except he knew your face. I know. Gideon explained it to me.”  
“Doesn’t really cover the reality of the thing, does it?” Kara said, standing. She crossed to sink onto the couch beside Patience.  
“Not really,” the telekine said with a wry smile.  
“No wonder you don’t want to go out. Was he cruel to you?”  
“Molotch? No, no. He loved me, I think. Or loved Lynta, anyway. It’s just difficult after months of …that.”  
“Yeah,” Kara sighed, letting her head loll back against the cushions for a moment. “I remember what that’s like,” she told the ceiling.  
“How did you deal with it, after?”  
“I avoided dealing with it, mostly. Threw myself into practice and tried not to talk about it.” She straightened up as she spoke.  
“To anyone?” Patience asked.  
“I talked to Harlon eventually. We were close. Always have been.”  
“Did it help?”  
“It did. I hope you haven’t waited this long to talk to someone?”  
Patience shook her head. “I’ve been venting to Jeswyn since I came back. She always asks what’s wrong with my bed.”  
“Because she thinks you aren’t sleeping well,” Kara said.  
“She’d be right.”  
“So what’s the verdict?”  
“Too quiet.”  
“How about ‘too empty?’”  
“Don’t joke about that,” Patience snapped.  
“I’m really not,” Kara said, lifting her hands in a gesture of surrender. “I pretty much abandoned my bunk for Harlon’s after he helped me.”  
“Do I want to know what that’s a euphemism for?” Patience asked blandly.  
Kara bounced her eyebrows in reply.  
“Oh, alright,” Patience laughed. “Tell me.”

“I had a lot of questions,” Kara began. “You know—‘Does this change who I am,’ ‘Have I given up something I can’t get back,’ probably the same stuff rattling around your head right now. I kept asking Harlon, and he’d say all the right things, but that wasn’t enough. You know. I  _kept_  asking.”  
“Did you doubt him?” Patience asked.  
“Not  _him._  I just…doubted. He was very patient about the whole thing.  Eventually he said, you know, I was carrying around all these questions and this baggage, and didn’t that get heavy?” The acrobat let a heavy sigh part her lips as she sank back into the corner of the couch, the side of her face pressed against the cushions lazily. She put one foot up on the coffee table.  
Patience unfolded her arms, tucking one foot under the opposite knee as she shifted to face her friend. “I can’t figure you lied,” Patience said.  
“Yeah, you’re right. I told him it did, and he said he wanted to take that off my shoulders. I wondered, you know, what he was about. He said, frig, I don’t remember.”  
“Yes you do,” Patience needled her.  
Kara regarded her friend sidelong, pursing her lips as she considered. “Yeah, alright. He told me it wasn’t doing me any good to be all wrapped up in that for so long, and then what he said was ‘I can take all questions away from you.’”  
“From anybody else that might sound like a threat,” Patience mused.  
“You’re right, but from him, then, it sounded like the perfect plan of attack. I, you know, agreed. And it’s not like he swept me off then and there, he gave me some time to reconsider, but in the end, I showed up at his cabin.”  
“And then?”  
“And then he said I should do whatever he told me to do. And not to think about it or question it. He was very gentle about it, the things he wanted and the way he asked me to do them, but I didn’t dare disobey him. I didn’t want to, I mean. And it’s not what you’re probably picturing, with floggers and that sort of thing, I just…gave him free rein and surrendered. Completely. It worked for me. Really well, actually.”  
“You are so infuriatingly vague, you know,” Patience pointed out with a grin.  
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you’d come here for punter stories,” Kara laughed, shaking her head. “Listen, if you really want to find out, I could give you Harlon’s address.”  
Patience blinked, taken aback. “You’d be alright with that?”  
“It hasn’t been that way with Harlon and I for a long time.” Kara shrugged. “He’s really…He’d be good to you, Patience.”  
“I’m not sure I’m ready to hand the keys over to Harlon Nayl,” Patience said. “Sorry.”  
“I just meant you can trust him. Alright, alright. If you don’t want to trust him, find someone you can trust. You’ve had a bad experience. I get that. I’m just saying it might be time that wasn’t your  _last_  experience.”  
“I’ll think about it,” Patience said.  
“Even if you’ve decided you don’t trust anyone else, trust yourself.”  
“Sorry?”  
Kara regarded the other woman a moment. “Here’s what we’re doing,” Kara said after a moment, springing to her feet. “We’re going shopping.”  
“I can’t see what that has to do with…punter stories,” Patience laughed.  
“Forget about that for a minute, Patience,” the acrobat said, pulling the taller woman to her feet. “We’ll get there, but we’re going shopping.”  
“For what, exactly?”  
“Clothes, first of all. Nothing you own belongs to Patience Kys, so trash all of that and start over,” she suggested. “All of Lynta’s flirty sundresses are cute, but they weren’t for you. They were for someone else. Whatever you’ve got in your closet now, it’s got to go.”  
“You’re making too much sense, Kar,” the telekine laughed.  
“Yeah. I do that. And we have too much money. Come on, then.”

— — — — —

The high streets were a collection of glossy façades and impressive displays, which Kara dragged Patience through, like a chaperon at first but with growing warmth. The telekine’s fears that Kara had demurred in some way evaporated from the first, when Kara threw a half-dozen silky dresses over her arm and herded Patience toward the changing rooms. They were pretty— _too_  pretty was Patience’s evaluation.  Kara nodded like she was taking notes. It took a few more misses before they came to someplace packed with the dark and slinking. Patience felt much more at home there, throwing a choice or two of her own on Kara’s pile of selections.

The acrobat sighed with envy to see her in them. “They don’t make them in short and busty,” she said with a grin.  
“They don’t make  _corsets_  in ‘busty,’” deadpanned the telekine.  
“You’d be surprised. You know, none of this is going to match your fundamentals…”  
“Miss Swole, if I didn’t know better, I’d think this was a ploy to see me in my underthings.”  
“I promise it’s not,” Kara laughed.

That was almost a lengthier process than finding all the dresses and bodygloves Patience had collected throughout the day. She still flinched when the shop girl took her measurements, but when she changed out of Lynta’s dress and brassiere to try on something Kara had promised her wouldn’t show through, Patience had to admit she felt more herself.  
In a fit of whimsy she’d gotten herself a corselet and matching panty trimmed with black lace and iridescent feathers. “I swear I had a dream about this stuff,” she told Kara with a knowing grin.

With permission, she skimmed out of Lynta’s dress and dowdy underthings for her new purchases and a carmine bodyglove. Its accent panels were lightly quilted with threads of antiqued silver. Kara smiled to see her in it.  
“You’re standing straighter already,” the acrobat noted.  
Patience tipped her discards into a bin. “You wouldn’t think a dress could weigh so much.”  
“One last stop.”

— — — — —

“You’re kidding,” said Patience.  
“I’m not,” Kara replied.  
“I can’t go in there.” The telekine was looking askance at a collection of molded glass  _objects_  that glittered in the harsh overhead lighting of the window display. The view into the shop beyond was blocked by a curtain of black velvet.  
“And why not?” Kara asked, turning to regard the taller woman. “If you aren’t ready for this, we don’t have to go.”  
Patience took a deep breath, feeling the heat of her cheeks. She seemed to consider. “You’ve been here before?”  
“Loads of times. I promise, it’s safe.”  
“Safe isn’t the problem. It’s embarrassing.”  
“Only if you let it be,” Kara told her friend, taking her elbow gently. “If you’re going to go it alone, you ought to at least be well prepared.”  
“I’m trusting you on this,” Patience said with a slight smile. Then she let Kara lead her into the shop.

It was clean and bright, colorful merchandise hanging from the walls. The purpose of most of them was immediately obvious, but Patience found herself faintly surprised to find a bookshelf tucked into a niche on the back wall.  
“You’ve never owned a vibrator before, right?” Kara asked, waving briefly to the matron sitting behind the counter.  
“No,” admitted Patience.  
“Okay, but you’re familiar with the concept of masturbation, right?”  
“I wasn’t a child when I left Sameter,” Patience said, trying to swallow the note of irritation in her voice.  
“You were living in a scholam. It bore asking.” Kara patted Patience’s arm in between the handles of the bags she’d slung over it.  
“I’m really out of my depth here, Kar,” said the telekine.  
“Alright, well, come have a look,” the redhead told her, beckoning her to follow. “Do you want something insertable, or…?”  
Patience had to consider. “I’m really not sure,” she admitted.  
“Both have their strong points,” Kara said, planting her hands on a small table. The toys on its surface were all sorts of shapes—realistic representations of male anatomy stood alongside undulating pillars, a few silver eggs, and curved, flattened oblongs. “If you’re really not sure it isn’t like you have to pick just one,” Kara noted. She picked one of the eggs up, clicked the button on its end, and pressed it to her nose with a giggle.  
“What in Throne’s name are you doing?” Patience laughed.  
“If it tickles your nose, that’s probably about the right speed,” Kara said knowingly. “Just find one you like.”

In the end, Patience took Kara’s advice and didn’t limit herself to one, the shop’s discreet black bag settled in among the rest of the day’s gains. Kara walked her back to the hotel, and came in long enough to scoop the old clothes out of Patience’s wardrobe.  
“I’ll donate them somewhere worthy,” the redhead promised on her way out. “Have fun, Patience.”  
“Thanks, Kar. I’m glad I came to you about this.”  
“Me too, trust me.”  
“I do.”

— — — — —

Patience spent the next three days in a sort of repose, leaving her room each morning for a late brunch and an hour perusing the nearby library so that the cleaning servitors could put things to rights and turn down her sheets, which she rumpled each evening, exploring her own body by touch with slick fingers, feeling the cool air on her skin. Her toys began laid out in a drawer and ended up strewn around her in the bed or by the bathtub before she dutifully cleaned them, dried them, and went to bed with the unpleasant nag of dissatisfaction tugging at the back of her mind.  
She thought about Kara’s advice, and Jeswyn’s prompting, and rather than move further down the list of trusted associates, Patience Kys went back to the top, reaching for her hand-vox.

“Frauka,” said the voice on the other end.  
“What’s Gideon doing?” Patience asked.  
“Spinning his wheels, mostly,” said the blunter.  
The telekine wandered through her suite, standing before the mirrored vanity. She plucked up a silver necklace, its wraithbone pendant a shard of inert white material, and looped it around her slender neck. She cradled the hand-vox between shoulder and ear as she fumbled with the clasp. “Tell him I want to talk.”  
“You got it.” Frauka covered the mouthpiece. “Patience wants to chat,” he said, and she couldn’t make out the buzz of the voxsponder in the background.  
An instant later she felt another mind brush her own, the pendant glimmering. “Alright,” said Patience, and hung up. It occurred to her a moment later she’d forgotten to say thank you.

 _Thank Frauka for me,_  Patience thought with intention.  
 _Done,_  said Gideon Ravenor inside her mind.  _Do you need me to visit?  
_ _I need you not to be distracted,_  Patience said.  _Can you manage that where you are?  
_ _Yes. Do you_  want  _me to visit?  
_ _Yes,_  she said.  _But I don’t want to wait for that. I want you here with me.  
_ _I don’t think I understand,_  Ravenor admitted.  
 _You and I both know you don’t have to bring the chair to the hotel to be with me. I want you to be with me.  
_ _Do you want me to ware you?  
_ _No,_  she thought forcefully.  _I don’t want to be worn. I just want you to … see what I see. To feel what I feel. But I want to be in control, for now. Is that possible?  
_ _I can do that,_  Ravenor said, and she felt him settle into her, goosebumps traveling in a wave over her.

“Hi, Gideon,” she said, looking at herself in the mirror as she took the clips from her hair, running both hands through its dark waves. “Do you remember when we began all this? You came to ask me the Question, and then …”  
 _I remember,_  Ravenor said, a warm timbre to his illusory voice.  
“We haven’t talked about that night much,” Patience said, removing her earrings. “Was that a one-time thing for you?”  
 _I would very much like it not to be,_  Ravenor admitted,  _but I was concerned about pressuring you.  
_ “Because I work for you.”  
 _Among a number of other concerns, yes,_  he agreed.  _Not the least of them your role on Zenta Malhyde.  
_ “That wasn’t me,” she said. “It was, but it wasn’t. I’m still doing some work on who Patience Kys is, but I know I trust you. I know I want you.”   
 _Those actions are still a part of you. I’ve been kept well informed of your progress in reintegrating. It’s good to know I still have your trust.  
_ “You have a lot more than that,” Patience said, unbuttoning the throat of her bodyglove. She sat on the edge of the bed and opened the drawer.  
 _Where did you get those?_  Gideon laughed.  
“From a shop,” Patience said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve had them a few days. I thought we could …”  
 _We can do whatever would please you best, Patience,_  the Inquisitor said.  
“Good,” said the telekine, toeing off her heels.

Slowly, deliberately, she disrobed, biting her lip at the feel of silk sliding against her skin. A hand slipped into the cup of her bra to pinch at her nipple, and a moment later she reached behind herself to undo the clasp of her brassiere and slip it off. She let herself fall back against the bed, hands moving over her body—pert breasts, flat stomach. Her thumbs hooked into the material of her panties for just a moment, pulling them taut against her labia. Patience swung her legs up into place then, rolling onto her stomach for just a moment as she fished through the drawer, pulling out a small tube and a bullet made of matte black plastic.  
She rolled onto her back once more, sweeping her hair out from beneath her, and relaxed into the softness of the bed. The wraithbone shard settled against her breastbone, a comforting warmth pulsing from it. She peeled away her panties and kicked them to the floor. Her hands went to her chest then, cupping her breasts and schooling her nipples to stiffness. There was a low purr in the back of her mind, and she grinned, her thighs pressing together almost involuntarily. A hand slipped between them a moment later, a finger parting her nether lips.  
“Are you getting this?” Patience asked as she ground lightly against her own hand.  
 _Yes,_  Gideon replied. She hadn’t known his mind voice could sound so breathless.  
Patience lifted her hand to her mouth, sucking briefly at one fingertip with a soft groan. She reached out for the tube and squeezed a dollop of cream into her fingers. It felt faintly greasy as she rubbed them together, then slowly massaged it into her sex. There was a faint tingling sensation that made her groan as she began to stroke her clit. She left off for just a moment, pressing a finger into her cunt, a second quickly following. She reached for her bullet with the other hand, squeezed it to life, and circled her areola with it. Impatience built in her then, and it was only a moment or two later before she pressed the buzzing toy to her clit and gasped. She could feel the shock of sensation reverberate through her lover’s mind as well as her own. Patience thrilled to the sensation, her fingers working her cunt eagerly as she arched herself against the vibrator, her hips lifting from the hotel bed.  
“Gideon,” she gasped, struggling to keep her eyes open, looking down the line of her body as she touched herself. She remembered him as she’d dreamed him, the way they’d spilled into her bed and rolled around together. It was almost all she’d allowed herself to think of for days. That and how badly she wanted to kiss him, to taste him. How his hands had felt on her, how it had felt when he’d clutched her to his chest. Patience thought of his heartbeat, the sound of it with her cheek to his chest. The way her name had sounded on his lips when he’d arched in climax. Patience felt the knot of arousal in her belly, the quaver of her limbs that told her she’d come to the brink.  
 _Patience,_  Gideon Ravenor groaned.  
“Gideon,” she whimpered in reply, grinding her pelvis against the toy. Her eyes pressed shut, a shock like cold needles dancing over her skin. She felt her muscles clench and release, and laid, spent but not satisfied, groaning.  
 _Run the bath,_  Gideon told her.  _I’ll be there before it fills.  
_ Patience hummed in assent, but it was a long moment before she rose to comply.

— — — — — 

He was as good as his word, and she opened the door in silence to let him in. She hadn’t bothered to get dressed, and so closed the door swiftly after his entrance. A hand skimmed over the warm, inert material of the force chair.  
“Hello, Gideon,” she said, meandering back toward the bathroom. He followed. The bathroom was large enough for her to ease past him without difficulty. She sat on the lip of the tub and looked at him, gazing into the camera lens through which he now saw the world.  
“Hello, Patience,” he replied. “Are you enjoying your visit to Thracian?”  
“A good deal more now than a few days ago,” she admitted, swishing a hand through the water. “Have they kept you busy?”  
“It’s a lengthy process,” the inquisitor admitted. “And almost at its end. Our evenings are mostly left free. I’d have liked to see you, but I wasn’t certain …”  
“I understand,” said the telekine. “If the only way this can work is on my initiative, I understand the reasons for that.”  
“I think that would be best, right now,” Ravenor agreed. “You didn’t seem to think we were finished, earlier.”  
“We aren’t,” Patience said with a small smile, reaching out to close the taps, leaving the bath rippling and steaming behind her. “I’m going to pick something from the drawer, and then I want you to touch me.”  
There was a brief click, as though he’d engaged his voxsponder and then turned it off again. “How?” he asked after a moment.  
“You don’t think too much about the non-combat uses for your talents, do you?” Patience asked as she brushed past him, leaning over the nightstand. “How long can you ware someone for?”  
“I’ve never tried to find out,” he admitted. “It’s not an easy thing, to be worn. Some handle it better than others. And the longer I stay in ware …”  
“The harder it is to go back to being yourself?” Patience finished for him, glancing over.  
“Yes.”  
“I’m familiar with the concept,” she said, sliding the drawer closed, “though getting back to ‘myself’ is the ideal in my case.” As she passed him again, her hand trailed over the armor plating of his casket, as if by habit. “One of the things I’m very sure of, when it comes to Patience Kys, is that she wants Gideon Ravenor.” Patience set her chosen toy—a gently curving shaft of violet silicone—on the lip of the tub. She stood, looking down at him, and stroked her collarbone with her free hand.  “Kara told me this interesting story, the other day,” she mused. “About handing over the reins to Harlon when she was doubting herself. In bed, I mean. I want to try it with you.”  
“You want me to take control.”  
“Yes.”  
“By waring you?”  
“More or less,” Patience admitted. “I’d like to speak aloud, though you’ll hear me either way. I’ll give you the use of my hands, and I want you to touch me.”  
 _Get in the bath,_  Gideon sent with such urgency it almost hurt.  
She laughed and stepped in, bracing herself with both hands. As she slipped into the scalding water, she felt his mind press up against hers, and she retained control enough to close her eyes and feel him settle into her body. She was overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure of being allowed to  _feel,_  Gideon’s thoughts spilling over into her own consciousness. She could see herself from outside herself—Gideon’s visual feed in the chair, she supposed.  
 _Yes,_  he agreed.  _Ready?  
_ “Ready,” she said, and her eyes opened. Her hands moved beneath the water without her directing them, an alien sensation. They felt like someone else’s hands where they touched her, skimming over her side and pressing to her breastbone to feel her own heartbeat. She let her head slip below the water for just a moment, and smoothed her hair back, and ran one hand over the opposite arm, from wrist to shoulder, and then over her collarbone and neck. Her body felt like foreign territory to explore, and her attention settled on the grainy camera feed of her luxuriating in the bath.  
 _Look how beautiful you are, Patience,_  Gideon said, his words like breath on the back of her neck. Her hands cupped her breasts and massaged them, lingering over them ’til she groaned and squirmed, legs kicking under the water’s uneven surface.  
“Gideon,” she whimpered, bowing her head to kiss at the inside of one wrist. She bit her lower lip, and he reached for the toy with her hands, fumbling with its activation runes for a moment until he understood the pattern of its pulsations. It fell into the water a moment later, bobbing just beneath the surface and nudging at her thighs as she spread her legs, fingers parting her labia and stroking at her vulva with unhurried, exploratory touches. She groaned again, her back arching. A fingertip swirled over the hood of her hard clit.  
“Please,” she whimpered, her entreaty echoing in his mind.  
 _Throne, Patience,_  Gideon purred, relenting as her hands snatched the toy from where it floated, teasing her slit with its blunted, velvety head. After a long moment, the first inch of its girth pressed into her, her other hand still stroking her vulva. Slowly, she felt herself filled, and her thumb grazed over the activation runes. It turned on with a jolt, and she felt the feedback from Gideon’s surprise and pleasure in her own mind as well as she did the sensations coursing through her own body.  
“I can hold it,” the telekine offered, and her hand drifted away from where it had anchored the hilt of the toy. It didn’t buzz so much as rock and pulse, thrusting against her cunt as her now-free hand moved to stroke her breastbone. The fingers of her other hand began to stroke her clit more firmly then, and she gasped.  
“Lightly,” she said, and the pressure relented for the moment. She let her mind drift, awash in the spillover of Gideon’s delight and arousal, and entrusted him with the care of her pleasure. He was a diligent and eager steward, mindful of her reactions to each sort of touch he tried, and soon it wasn’t the heat of the bath that had sweat beading upon Patience’s brow. Almost by instinct, her thighs clamped together, stifling the movement of the pulsing toy, and she felt Gideon’s will pull them apart again so that her hand could stroke and flick at her clit unimpeded. Her legs quivered and jerked, and she heard the water slosh over the edge of the tub, but she didn’t care, she was beyond caring about anything other than this moment, and  _Gideon_ —  
She thought his name twice more in quick, breathless succession, gasping for air like she was drowning, and felt her cunt clench around the toy, gripping almost painfully tightly, the pleasurable spasm traveling through the whole of her body.  
 _Patience,_  Gideon said, using her hands to reach for the vibrator and turn it off, then letting her slump back against the edge of the bathtub.

His mind was still half-settled in her body, basking in the warmth of her afterglow.  
“I needed that,” she said in a rush of breath. “Needed you,” she amended.  
 _To make up for…  
_ She felt him avoid the name of his dead foe. “Zenta Malhyde?” she asked. “I don’t know about ‘make up for.’ It’s not something that needs to be corrected or compensated for. I didn’t want you to come here because I thought you could fix me.”  
 _I don’t think you needed to be fixed.  
_ “I wanted you to come here because wanting you is one of the things I can identify as mine. It’s like a touchstone.”  
 _Like your name.  
_ “I’d still share that with you, if you wanted,” she said, at length.  
 _Keep it, Patience,_  he told her gently.  _Sharing this has been gift enough.  
_ “Can you stay?”  
 _At least until morning,_  he promised.

She hauled herself from the bathtub, water streaming from her long limbs. She toweled off and wrapped her hair up before dumping her evening’s diversions into the sink, gently but diligently scrubbing them clean and returning them to their keeping in the drawer beside the bed. Her hair still damp and unbound, she slipped under the duvet and settled into the softness of the bed. Patience kissed her own fingers and hoped he felt it. Then she remembered what else was on the nightstand, and she blushed.  
“Really,” droned his voxsponder, then it coughed out an odd, guttural utterance. “You’ve just enlisted me to help you masturbate—twice—and you’re embarrassed to think I might discover you’ve left one of my plays at your bedside.”  
“I didn’t say it made sense,” she said, glaring at his camera.  
 _Would you like me to read it to you?_  he sent, gently, and the sound of his natural voice soothed her.  
“Yes,” she decided.  
 _Alright,_  he said, and began.


End file.
